Returned but not the Same
by writeinspiredraw
Summary: Susan's role in the new family dynamic as seen by their mother. Post The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. Small little one shot.


**(A/N): This is a short oneshot that popped into my head and wouldn't leave until I wrote it out. I do not own Narnia or any characters associated with it; I just play with the characters for my own amusement. All mistakes and errors are my own as I don't produce content nearly regularly enough for a beta to be effective. Enjoy!**

**Returned but not the Same**

Helen Pevensie was troubled and confused, without any clue what to do about it. And it all stemmed from her four children. With barely a year between Peter and Susan, they had always been close, always looking after the younger two children when they came along, Edmund a mere two years after Susan and Lucy another two years after Edmund. She knew she'd done the right thing when she'd sent thirteen year old Peter, twelve year old Susan, ten year old Edmund and eight year old Lucy off to the country to escape the dangers of the city. Her children would be safe and wouldn't have to grow up too fast, one of the side effects of being up close and personal to the ongoing war. But she hadn't got those same children back; she was sure of it. Oh sure, they still looked the same, a little older maybe, and they answered to the same names, but Helen could swear that that was where the similarities to her children ended. They had been gone for near on a whole year, true, but Helen didn't realise that so much could change in such a short space of time.

"Peter, please!"

Helen automatically rose as the sound of her youngest child's whine, making her way to the living room of their London home. The children had only been home for three days and yet sometimes it felt as though they had never left. She certainly preferred the noise and warmth the four children provided to her home. As she approached the doorway to the living room and pushed the door open fully to see her children dotted about the room. Edmund was sat at the small side table, staring intently at a chess board that held a combination Helen didn't recognise, not that she was a great chess player. Susan was curled up on an armchair with her nose firmly entrenched in a book with no title, brushing her hair out of her eyes every so often when wisps would escape the plait it was fashioned into. Peter was sat at the writing desk, ink pen in one hand as Lucy tugged on the other, her brow creased in a frown.

"No, Lucy," Peter replied, not looking up from whatever he was writing. Lucy pouted.

"But Peter, it's not fair! I haven't had a bedtime in forever!"

Helen frowned. She really needed to have words with that Professor if he'd been so lax in his duties as caregiver that little eight year old girls didn't have bedtimes. She wasn't surprised that Peter had put his foot down though, she'd seen him do it more than once since they'd returned to her three days earlier, usually with Lucy, who'd been able to wrap him around her little finger before, and only twice with Edmund, the one he'd been most likely to fight with before. She made to make her presence known when Susan, who'd barely said a word since returning home, looked up from her book and fixed Lucy with a firm look.

"Lucy, as much as you may not like it, you are only eight years old. How about eight o'clock as a bedtime as a compromise between you and Peter?"

Helen watched in surprise as Edmund didn't even react, though Peter and Lucy turned to her in unison, protests spilling over one another in their bid for their sister to hear their side of the debate. Susan listened calmly to the babble being thrown in her direction before holding up a hand to stall their protests. To further Helen's surprise, the two bickering siblings instantly quieted.

"I've already considered both sides to this. I agree that it is unfair to make you go to bed at six o'clock Lucy, but Peter is correct in that you need a bedtime. So the compromise is eight o'clock."

Helen stifled a gasp as she gazed upon the calm visage of her eldest daughter; at barely thirteen years of age, Susan seemed to command the confidence and calm of a woman in her mid-twenties at least, with the authority to match if her siblings' reactions were anything to go by. Then again, Helen recalled, Edmund hadn't so much as acknowledged that Susan had spoken. There was no way her headstrong youngest son would appreciate Susan's interference in making Lucy a later bedtime than he had himself.

"Su?"

Susan turned to look at Edmund. "Yes, Ed?"

"When's my bedtime? Only Lucy's now going to bed later than me."

"Half past eight. You can have it moved to nine on your next birthday."

"Alright, thanks Su."

Helen moved away from the door. Troubled and confused were two very good ways to describe her at that moment. She'd told Peter to look after them as though he were their father (which she could acknowledge was unfair in hindsight), but she hadn't expected Susan to also take up a parental role in their small dynamic. What was worse was that she didn't know what to do about it. Still, she would have to think on it later, for there were more pressing matters at the moment. "Children, tea time!"

**The End.**


End file.
